


The First To Speak Is The First To Lie

by theinvisibledisaster



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bellamy Has Feelings, Salem witches, Slow Burn Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Sorry Not Sorry, octavia is kind of a villain here, so is echo, the salem au i've been sitting on for months
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-10-29 19:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17814557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisibledisaster/pseuds/theinvisibledisaster
Summary: The Salem AU nobody asked for or wanted, now with added ANGST!Octavia starts to accuse people of being witches, which leads to people in the town being locked up and put on trial and killed. Bellamy doesn't like it, but things really escalate when Octavia decides she doesn't like the girls that want to date her brother. When she sees the baker's daughter, Clarke, talking to her brother, she immediately claims to have seen Clarke casting a spell on the valley.ON HIATUS





	The First To Speak Is The First To Lie

**Author's Note:**

> hi, welcome to a fun, angsty salem au!!
> 
> The inspiration comes from these tumblr posts, [HERE](https://asroarke.tumblr.com/post/180760427793/bellarke-salem-witch-trials-au-i-love-the-smell) and [HERE!](https://asroarke.tumblr.com/post/180761940628/we-want-your-witch-puns-on-that-fic-we-need-them)
> 
> This is just a short prologue to set up the rest of the story, but it will probably end up being around 8 to 10 chapters if i practice some self-restraint (and since when has THAT ever happened?). The other chapters will be closer to my usual length (between 3k and 6k) but it just felt really important to me to have this prologue in here first. 
> 
> Title comes from the Queens of the Stone Age song, "Burn the Witch" and all the chapter titles will be lyrics from that song because........y'know, I probably don't need to explain my reasoning for this one. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry this is so short, but I hope you enjoy it!

It was dark and dingy in the cell – there was mould growing on the walls, and every time he visited it, the air somehow felt even more damp. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been to the jail in the last few months; it was far too many for comfort, and he resolved that the second this whole damn thing was done, he was burning the building to the ground.

He was so sick of watching people he cared about getting locked in cells.

Bellamy leaned his head against the bars and stared down at Clarke, who was lying on the floor, staring resolutely up at the ceiling.

“Seriously, Clarke, just admit to being a witch and they won’t–”

“–but I’m _not_ a witch, Bellamy! And it’s completely _insane_ for me to–”

“–listen, _I_ know you’re not a witch, _you_ know you’re not a witch; can’t that be enough?”

She lifted her head just so she could glare at him.

“No!”

“Why not?” He begged.

“Because it’s ridiculous! How on earth is it possible that admitting to be a witch will get me acquitted, but _denying it_ gets me killed? That’s an insane system, Bellamy.”

“I know, but–”

“Whatever I say at this trial, I’m going to ruin the rest of my life. If I lie and say that I’m a witch just to appease the judge, the village will never accept me again and I’ll have to move away from everyone I love just to live a normal life – like my mom, like Wells. And if I tell the truth and tell them I’m not a witch, then–”

“–then they’ll _kill you,_ Clarke!” Bellamy snapped. She dropped her head back against the floor and closed her eyes, and he ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “Clarke, please be realistic about this. They’re going to murder you, for no other reason than that they can. I know it’s not right, I know it’s not ethical, but this is the way it is, and I can’t lose you, I– I can’t lose you too.”

She exhaled slowly towards the ceiling. “I know, Bellamy, but it’s not _my_ fault I’m in here.”

He winced.

She wasn’t wrong.

“I already tried to get through to them, and they’re resolute in their decision to put you on trial tomorrow. I can’t do anything else, believe me, Princess; I’ve tried.”

“I know,” she said. “I _know_ you did, but I want you to know that if I get out of this alive, I’m going to take up witchcraft just so I can murder them, bring them back to life, and then murder them again.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in magic?”

“Go to hell Bellamy.”

He snorted, but before he had a chance to retort, the guard at the end of the hallway rattled his keys, and he knew the time was coming to an end. Clarke heard it too, and she sprang to her feet, hands folding over his around the bars. Her eyes poured into his, all watery sadness and icy determination, and he wished he hadn’t fallen in love with her, because then his heart wouldn’t be shattering in his chest at the thought of losing her.

Instead of telling her how he felt, or sliding his arms through the bars so he could hold her close, he just pressed his forehead against them. She tilted her head to meet him, and he wanted to kiss her.

“Get them out of town, Bellamy,” she whispered. “Promise me?”

He sighed, tears rising behind his eyes. “I promise, Princess.”

The guard banged something against the wall and it clanged loudly, making them jump apart. Bellamy started backing away, his fingers slowly sliding from the cell door, and she tangled her fingers with his, gripping them tightly just once before she let go.

“Take care of yourself, Bellamy.” She said, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “Don’t feel bad for leaving me here. This is how it has to be.”

He nodded curtly, because if he did anything else, he was going to break down. He took a deep breath and attempted a half-smile.

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t die tomorrow.”

“I’d prefer it if your sister wasn’t a psycho, but here we are.” She retorted meanly, but he could see the softness in her cheeks and he knew she was just trying to cover her own emotions.

They were certainly a pair.

“Goodbye, Clarke.”

“Goodbye, Bellamy.” She wiped the tear messily from her cheek, just as more of them began falling, and his heart clenched at the sight. She sniffled, and when she smiled at him, it was small and tear-stained. “May we meet again.”

He spun on his heel and walked out past the guard before he tried to force him out with the weapons dangling from his belt, and the second he reached the outer door and stumbled into the dusk light, he dropped to his knees, sobbing.

Within seconds, Raven was at his side. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy.”

He wanted to punch something, to kick something, to kill something. But all he did was cry while his friend left her hand resting on his shoulder; the only real comfort she was capable of giving.

The sun was skirting the edge of the horizon when he finally pulled himself together. Raven helped him to his feet and they started walking back towards her cottage, but Bellamy couldn’t resist one last look back at the old, rotting jail.

“May we meet again.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
This wasn’t the first time the witch hunts had broken hearts, and it almost certainly wasn’t the last, or even the most famous, but it was the one that mattered in Polis. In Polis, it was the one that ended witch hunting forever.

It took countless deaths and hundreds of disappearances, but finally, things just went too far. 

It became one person too many.

The first time witch-hysteria came to Polis was 1651. A group of villagers accused Becca Pramheda of casting spells in her garden, and despite her plea that she was innocent, she was locked up and put on trial anyway.

They burned her alive.

It spread through the nearby villages after that, setting people against each other in a never-ending cycle of gossip and misery. People lied to save themselves, or they died by hanging or burning. Some people simply vanished in the middle of the night if they heard they were to be next. It tore families and life-long friendships apart, but it quickly died down, and people eventually forgot about the damage it did and went on with their lives. For thirty-eight years, there wasn’t a single incident.

Until 1689, when Octavia Blake told Mayor Pike that she’d witnessed Luna Triteia conjuring spirits by the river.

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT DO YOU THINK???
> 
> INVESTED YET???
> 
> AM I INSANE FOR WRITING THIS MANY WIPS AT ONCE???? (yes, obviously)
> 
> I hope you're all doing well, and I adore you all, your kudos and comments mean the world to me. <3


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